


Good Omens Vore Fanfic: Bon Appetit

by LLAMacguffin



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Vore, male vore, safe vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLAMacguffin/pseuds/LLAMacguffin
Summary: Aziraphale gets in trouble. Crowley has to help out. By eating him. Because he's a demon.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 56





	1. Part 1

# Good Omens Vore Fanfic: Bon Appétit.

All characters and most inventions mentioned in this piece of writing belong to the creators of Good Omens. Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. 

Warning, contains soft m/m, non-fatal, non-sexual vore and general micro content. 

Takes place after the mini-series and is based on the TV versions of the characters and universe, not the book. 

\---------------------------------- 

Crowley sighed, letting out a long, slow breath, allowing his feet rest lazily up on the desk. Music played quietly in the background and he took an overly large sip of whiskey, watching the sun setting behind the towering buildings that made up the cityscape beyond his window. It had been a pleasant day of normal mischief, mostly tempting mortals with a little bit of plotting for grand scale tomfoolery. He was no longer required to send souls to hell but honestly, after so long doing it, it was hard to quit.  
He was now spending the evening enjoying some whiskey. Then he would have a quick sleep, and get up in time for sunrise.  
Since the whole... Armageddon thing, he had found himself with a new appreciation for sunrises and sunsets, and was learning to make the most of them.  
He was just idly swinging his chair back and forth in time to the music, watching the last rays of orange and pink light draining behind the London skyline when there came a frantic knocking on his door.  
He blinked, sitting up with a surprised look on his face, unused to being bothered in such a manner. He couldn't sense any of his former colleagues, and certainly it would be unlike Aziraphale to show up at his residence at all, let alone without calling on the landline to book him two days in advance!  
Frowning, he stood up, stumbling a little, and looking accusingly at the almost empty Whiskey bottle.  
A little drunk perhaps, nothing catastrophic.  
He headed to the door anyway, trying to look through the peep-hole, but finding that the damn thing kept moving away from his gaze!  
It was, in fact, his legs that were moving, but there was hardly a difference for Crowley as he gave up and pulled the door open.  
“Crowley thank goodness! I was starting to think you weren't in!” Aziraphale stood in the doorway looking anxious, wringing his hands.  
“Az... Azira...” Crowley's mouth just wasn't co-operating properly with the Angel's name. “Azzie! What's up? It's not like you to visit!” he slurred.  
“Crowley are you... drunk?”  
“I wouldn't say... drunk exactly... a little bit lubricated perhaps but...” he narrowed his orange eyes suddenly as he noticed the Angel was trying to keep his back to the wall, entirely failing to hide his wings. “Say... why've you gotten those out?” he asked, pointing, well aware that having wings out simply did not pass in human society. Even when one was drunk.  
“That's why I'm _here..._ ” the Angel did look genuinely distressed. “May I come in?”  
Crowley stumbled backwards with an exaggerated nod, casting out an arm in a gesture of disorientated welcome.  
“Thank you.” The angel swiftly entered the apartment, and Crowley leaned on the door to push it closed, and fumbled with the lock to ensure their privacy before turning to look at his friend, who was already pacing nervously. “I am _so_ sorry to disturb you Crowley, I am but... I'm in a bit of a spot... do you think I could ask you to sober up?” he asked as he observed that the demon was sliding slowly down the wall. Not in an intentional movement either, simply because his balance and legs weren't communicating correctly.  
“Follow me...” Crowley pushed himself back upright again, and made a stumbling quest for his office. He aimed for the desk chair, almost missing it, but able to grab an arm and swing himself clumsily into the thing. Once sitting, there was not quite so much danger of falling, and he belched before waving a hand. “So... why don't you tell me what the problem is... and _then_ I shall decide if I should sober up?”  
“Well...” The angel wrung his hands nervously. “It's Gabriel... he came to me in a dream and he threatened me! Said they were going to clip my wings... and since then I haven't been able to hide them as normal!”  
“So... you can't put your wings away... and the angels are going to come and clip them?” asked Crowley, wanting to ensure he had things absolutely straight in his drunken head.  
“Yes, precisely...” sighed Aziraphale, “That's why I'm here... I needed somewhere to hide, until they stop looking for me and _this_ wears off.”  
“Can angels curse other angels?” asked Crowley, raising an eyebrow. “Just... something as simple as making you keep your wings out?”  
“Well... not really no... I can't say that they can... curses are more _your_ kind of thing aren't they? I was hoping you'd have some idea what this is...” the man looked frantic and lost, and Crowley held up a hand.  
“Okay... wait a second... I'm gonna...” he gestured to the spirit bottle, drew a slow breath and exhaled slowly, forcing the alcohol back out of his system and back into the bottle.  
There was a faint noise of liquid sloshing as the amber liquid on the table slowly refilled itself from nothingness, and the demon shook his head a few times, smacking his lips in distaste. “Ugh...”  
“I _am_ sorry to have disturbed you...”  
“No it's fine...” Crowley replied, rubbing a hand over his eyes and standing up, once more co-ordinated and fully cognisant. “This sounds interesting enough to be important,” he said, grinning a bit ghoulishly as he went to the kitchen and ran himself a glass of water.  
“Oh thank you,” said the angel with visible relief.  
A moment later, Crowley returned, taking a few sips of the water to clear his head, and to remove the odd back-taste of the sobering process, before turning to Aziraphale and focusing properly. “Alright... now let us see here...” he said, putting the glass on the desk and gently laying his hands on the angel's shoulders. “Let us see here...” he repeated himself as he focused, his amber eyes flashing as he instantly detected something wrong with the angel. He frowned, prying at it, trying to find out whose work it was, and how powerful. It was certainly the work of a demon, and no amateur either  
Aziraphale waited nervously, keeping still for Crowley, even as the demon let out a low growl. He knew it was not directed at him, and merely the man's way of expressing displeasure, but that was really no reassurance as he waited for the diagnosis.  
“Well well... it looks as though your side and mine have been working together again...” muttered Crowley.  
“Not like the time that they tried to...”  
“Yep...”  
“With the hellfire and the holy water?”  
“Yep...”  
“So what have they done _this_ time?!”  
Crowley leaned on his desk, sipping at the water again, then taking a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose before replying to the angel. “Well... it's a curse. But it's no easy matter to curse an angel, so they must have prepared this in stages... stolen some of your possessions, visiting you as you slept... they probably slipped something into your food more than once... one of the restaurants that you visit as a matter of habit? I have told you it's dangerous to be predictable where you eat...”  
“Oh no... really?” the angel seemed upset at the thought of one of his regular eateries being used against him in such a way.  
“Really... and it took a lot of work to prepare something that would have affected you like this, so it's not something I can just remove and fix...” said Crowley, annoyed that the two sides were back to make trouble for them once again. It seemed so recently that they had last had to see them off...  
“Then... what can we do?” asked Aziraphale nervously. “I'm not going to be... _stuck_ like this?”  
“What? Oh... no, no it will wear off,” replied the demon, waving a hand.  
Aziraphale relaxed immediately, leaning back against the wall, careful not to squash his brilliant white wings as he did so, “Oh thank goodness... how long?”  
Crowley rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Hard to say really... a couple days? Long enough for it to get our of your system...”  
The angel gave a small, slightly worried nod. “I see... but there's still the concern of what will happen if Gabriel comes for me during that time... I can't possibly stay at home, they'd _find_ me!”  
“No, no I think it'd be best if you kept hidden until it's,” agreed Crowley, “I'd say you should stay here but... if they're working with my lot then they know perfectly well where I live, and they'll be showing up here in the next hour or so when they realise you're not at your book shop.”  
“But... but... where can I go? With these? Like this... that they can't find me!” Aziraphale sounded distressed all over again as he gestured to his wings. “I can't hide and blend in to human society with wings!”  
“True...” Crowley said thoughtfully, “What we need... is to hide you somewhere your wings won't be a problem... and that the angels wouldn't think to look.”  
“Can you... think of somewhere like that?” asked Aziraphale, looking a tiny bit hopeful.  
Crowley hesitated a moment, putting his fingers to his temples and just sensing, to make absolutely sure nobody was listening in. They were alone, for now. “Well...” he said. “You won't like it...”  
“In fairness I don't _like_ this either!” exclaimed the angel, gesturing to the wings.  
“Yeah but... you're going to like this even less,” rumbled Crowley.  
“Why? What is it?”  
“It's undignified...”  
“Okay...”  
“Unhygenic...”  
“Better than whatever Gabriel has in mind...”  
“And it requires you to trust me... completely and absolutely...”  
Aziraphale drew a slow breath and looked at the floor. “You know I trust you. You silly beast.”  
Crowley grinned, “Well then... no time like the present. You _are_ going to want to take your coat off though... this is going to absolutely ruin it otherwise, and I'd rather not waste my powers doing the cleaning it will need after all this...”  
The angel nodded, starting to try and remove the coat, and quickly realising how difficult removing it was going to be was over the wings. “I think I remember why we always used to wear robes now...” he said, frowning.  
Crowley stepped forwards to help, carefully folding the feathers through the holes in the coat where the wings were, until they were able to draw it free. He folded the garment onto his desk and looked at Aziraphale, who was standing expectantly. “Alright... what next?”  
Crowley chewed his lip a bit, and held out his hands, “Next, you need to trust me.”  
Aziraphale looked apprehensive as he held out his own hands, hovering them above Crowley's for a moment. “What exactly are you going to do?”  
“Well... I'm going to curse you.”  
The angel withdrew his hands a little, half-closing them, “You're going to _what_?”  
“Oh no don't worry, it's only a little one!” said Crowley, looking hurt. “And it will only work if you let me do it... without various rituals and slipping things into your food, and other shenanigans... I can only curse you if you let me do it...”  
“Why should I _let_ you curse me? If you didn't notice I already have one more curse than I really want!”  
Crowley gently reached out to catch the angel's hands, hanging onto them in a firm but gentle grip, “Come on Aziraphale... you said you trusted me.”  
“I _do!_ But... a curse? Is that the only way?”  
Crowley shrugged, “I could just refer to it as witchcraft if you prefer?”  
“That makes it sound _worse!_ ” The angel exclaimed, his voice high and indignant.  
“Magic then.”  
“Magic?”  
“Just magic,” lied Crowley, giving a warm smile.  
“I... I can cope with that...” murmured Aziraphale, opening his palms to permit Crowley to grip his hands properly. “I think so anyway...”  
“Good, good, then close your eyes... and when you feel me trying to cast this... _magic_ on you... let it happen rather than trying to miracle your way out of it... okay?”  
“I... I think I can do that?” Aziraphale's eyes met with Crowley's, searching there for reassurance, and though the slitted, orange orbs were very familiar to him, they did not offer a great deal of readable emotion. Still, that was as close to reassurance as he could get, and he gave a little nod to show he was ready, then squeezed his eyes shut and waited.  
Seeing this, Crowley gently gripped his friend's hands, their palms flat against each other, Aziraphale's above, and Crowley's below, his long fingers wrapping around the side of the angel's hand to hold them secure as he began, his eyes glowing as he reached for his powers.

All light was sucked from the room, and the faint smell of ash and sulphur drifted through the air for a brief moment. Aziraphale let out a tiny whimper as he smelt this, clutching Crowley's hands for reassurance. A brief moment longer and he felt an uncomfortable, hot sensation in the palms of his hands, and he reflexively tried to push it away, but a quiet growl from Crowley told him that this was what the demon had meant. He forced himself to relax, allowing the hot feeling to spread through him, rather than fighting it off.  
Once the heat had covered every inch of him to the very tips of his wings, a tingling swiftly began to replace it, dominating all other sensation of which he was aware. Soon there was nothing but the tingling, and he was unable to even open his eyes, struggling to stay upright, clinging to Crowley's hands for balance, or at least, trying to, without being able to feel his fingers. Eventually, the sensation overwhelmed, and he let out a little cry, a mixture of concern for his own well being, and frustration at the unpleasant nature of the process. He just wanted it to be over. All of this (and perhaps a little of his own power) came out in Aziraphale's cry.  
And just like that, it ended.  
Everything stopped.  
The air smelled ordinary once again.  
He was a normal temperature. No more tingling.  
Was it over?  
“Well. You ended that a little soon but... we'll have to work with it.”  
Crowley's voice boomed a lot louder than normal, and the angel's eyes snapped open, gasping in shock as his vision was dominated by the demon's form.  
He let out a shout of surprise, trying to back up, his first glance thinking that he was just sitting or kneeling on the floor in front of Crowley.  
However, as he stumbled and fell backwards, his eyes got a grip on perspective once more, and he realised that he was in fact not standing too close, but Crowley was looming over him, enormous in scale.  
“Crowley?! What on heaven or earth...” he was about to demand a explanation, wanting to know exactly why the demon had thought becoming a giant would _help_ the situation rather than making it harder to hide. However, a slow glance around the apartment informed him swiftly that he was very wrong. In fact, the demon was no giant.  
“What have you done to me?!” he exclaimed, looking down at himself, trying to figure out exactly how large he was now not. He had, perhaps, six inches in total height. A little less maybe? His wings remained as unconcealed as before, and he held no illusions that this would most certainly make him easier to capture! “Crowley explain...” he said, looking up to the demon, _relying_ on him to have a good explanation or plan.

Crowley was still catching his breath a bit from exerting his powers that much, sitting back on his heels on the floor, he had closed his eyes, panting a little as he attempted to ground himself.  
“Crowley!”  
The angel's pitifully concerned tone drew his ear, and the demon sighed, opening his eyes and looking down.  
“ _Explain?_ ”  
It was not fear in the angel's voice, for he knew Aziraphale was no coward. The angel was simply trusting him to explain, and know what he was doing, what he could hear was merely concern and a smidgen of apprehension.  
“Shhh,” the demon said gently, “It's fine. It worked... you're a bit bigger than I planned because of that little push you gave me at the end... but we'll manage like this,” he reached out, using delicate, gentle hands to scoop the angel up. He stood slowly, and moved back to his desk, carefully placing his friend down on the surface, and sitting, leaning heavily on the desk for a moment, feeling drained from the effort.  
“Crowley please... just tell me you have a plan!” Not thrilled about being so small that he could be picked up like a doll, but glad of the help reaching the high surface, Aziraphale quickly found his feet and approached the demon.  
“Of course I have a plan,” confirmed Crowley, waving his hand a little. “Just catching my breath first...”  
“Can you tell me what it is?” Aziraphale already did not enjoy feeling this helpless. “I had no idea you could... do something like this...”  
“Of course, we just tend not to, it gets the humans all worked up if someone goes around shrinking them... puts the fear of god in them in fact, which is literally the opposite thing to what demons want them to have...”  
“Well... then why have you done it to _me?_ ”  
Crowley smiled, the expression sliding from one side of his mouth to the other as he finally pulled himself together and made eye contact with the angel. “Isn't it obvious?”  
“Not to _me_!”  
“Like this, I can hide you.”  
Aziraphale looked down at himself, then up at Crowley. “Though I accept it is easier to hide a small thing than a big thing, I don't think you've thought this through... if you put me away in a safe somewhere, or a cupboard, they will still be able to sense me, track me, and hunt me down... and my wings look a lot more clippable to me at this size!”  
Crowley smiled again, that rolling, knowing smile, “Aziraphale, I promised I would hide you somewhere the angels wouldn't think to look and I intend to make good on that. Your hiding place will not only be moving persistently away from them, but it will be a place no angel would ever dare to set foot... making it the best place for one to hide.”  
Aziraphale's brow furrowed in pure confusion, and he wrung his hands before holding them up, “Crowley, I know you enjoy teasing and talking in riddles... but if you could please just come out and say it... I would be very grateful.”  
The demon smiled warmly at the ever-polite request, and paused a moment to sense, and make sure they were still alone. Though he felt that would not last a lot longer, he was glad to find, for now, nobody was listening. Still, he leaned down, and used a large hand to lightly draw the angel closer so that he could whisper to him. “ _I'm_ your hiding place.”  
The angel stared at him a long moment, his expression completely blank, making it clear that he did not at all understand.  
Crowley sat up, opened his mouth and pointed at it, his eyebrows raised in a 'get it now?' expression.  
Aziraphale's jaw dropped as well, but in an entire different fashion, and he made a blustering exclamation before finding his words again. “Surely you can't expect me to...” he stopped when he saw Crowley already nodding. “But that's so...”  
“Unhygenic?”  
“Well it _is_!”  
“I did warn you about that... now what were your exact words... oh yeah... 'Better than whatever Gabriel has in mind.' you said.” He perfectly mimicked Aziraphale's voice and words.  
“Well... _yes_... but...”  
“Look, time is running out Aziraphale,” said Crowley, suddenly more serious. “Someone neither of us want to see is going to be knocking on my door in the next few minutes... and when that happens, we can either still be here, in my study, discussing it, or I can be in my car, twenty miles away by then, with you safely onboard and untrackable.”  
Aziraphale's face crumpled into a look of displeasure, but he did see the demon's point. “You promise they won't be able to track me?”  
“How _could_ they? You'll be inside a demon... it would be preposterous!”  
“It _is_ pretty preposterous isn't it?” Aziraphale agreed with a tiny smile. “I suppose at least... I won't go hungry...”  
Crowley's grin as he saw the twitch of a smile grew huge, and he nodded, “That's the Aziraphale I know,” he exclaimed. “Let's get on with this then. If we hit the road now we'll be in Paris by breakfast time.”  
Aziraphale's tiny smile grew just a little bit. “Crepes?”  
“Only the best,” replied the demon with a toothy grin, and though he was still nervous, the angel finally gave a little nod.  
“Alright, very well. I trust you to know what you're doing...” sighed Aziraphale. “Go ahead then demon...” He straightened his waistcoat, “do as you will.”  
“Aww come on, don't make it sound so biblical,” said Crowley, pulling a face.  
Aziraphale gave a helpless shrug, and the demon sighed, reaching out to gently pick him up. “Been a while since I've done this so... take a breath and I'll try to go as fast as I can...”  
“Alright... okay...” the angel squirmed a little in his grasp, the nervousness more than visible in his eyes as he was raised up before the demon's face. He gave a frittering little laugh and spoke once more, weakly. “Bon Appétit, I suppose...”  
Crowley managed an amused snort of laughter, then looked up as he sensed something starting to draw nearer. Time to hurry.  
He opened wide and ignored the angel's exclamation of shock at the sight of his fast-approaching mouth, and simply began to stuff his friend inside.  
His manners were normally not quite so lacking, but time was very short and Aziraphale was larger than he had really intended him to be. It was no great issue, after all, he was as much a serpent as a man, which made the process much quicker as he flipped his head backwards, his eyes narrowed to slits as he swallowed firmly and efficiently, two fingers pressing down on the tiny feet, pushing them downwards. To his credit, Aziraphale did not panic or begin to fight him, and in fact managed to keep his legs out straight, making it easier still for the demon to push them downwards. He would have to thank him for that later.  
Even with the wings though, the large mouthful was no real challenge for him, and the demon skilfully shifted his jaw to prepare, drew in a breath, and gave another, more powerful swallow, starting to steer the large shape on its way towards his gullet.  
The demon's slender neck bulged with the size of his meal, and he gulped again, noisily. His free hand crept its way up to the area and covered it protectively, hiding the shape from sight, feeling Aziraphale shift beneath his skin.  
A demon consuming an angel.  
He had to admit as he slowly levelled his head and permitted his tongue to sneak across his lips, tasting clean, crisp flavours like fresh spices and tea, that it would have made an... interesting bible verse.  
He leaned back slowly in his chair, exhaling a little as his friend forced his way down past the demon's lungs, making space for himself in the slender chest cavity merely by passing through.  
It certainly wasn't a bad feeling. Crowley felt _almost_ guilty to admit that it was actually extremely enjoyable. The tiny movements tingled and tickled within him, and best of all, the pure rush of power from having something so small, and yet so very conscious and intelligent so completely within his power made instinctively evil parts of him shudder with indulgent pleasure. He let out a low growl that almost, to an uninformed onlooker, might have seemed to be a rumbling purr.  
However, as his meal was unceremoniously deposited into his belly in an abrupt and undignified manner, Crowley sat up a little, the hand that had occupied his neck now straying down to lightly brush the black shirt covering his skinny middle, which now carried a small, but quite significantly shaped bulge. “Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale had found the process considerably less enjoyable than Crowley. The two had in fact, rather opposite opinions on the entire matter. What for Crowley had been heavy, warm and enjoyable, had for Aziraphale been claustrophobic, slime filled and daunting.  
From the very moment the jaws had opened before him, the angel had begun to experience an instinctual sense that this might not be such a good idea. Something to do with the enormous teeth as they passed millimetres from his face just made him think that perhaps he was doing the wrong thing.  
It was only when he felt his wings so lightly brush the roof of his friend's mouth that he recalled that this was the lesser of two evils, and as he silently worked to tuck them as tightly to his back as he could, he forced himself to co-operate with the muscles before him.  
A waft of hot air had welcomed his face and shoulders to the gullet, smelling mostly the way he had expected, but with the lightest undertone of ash and whiskey. The muscles around him, though visibly strained by his broad form, broadened further by the mass of increasingly slimy feathers, seemed to be experiencing no trouble, and as it straightened out before him, he was treated to a first-class view of the dark tube that lay ahead.  
He let out a worried little shout as he felt a strange pressure against his feet, but it was not loud enough to travel through so much flesh and muscle. After a moment, he realised that Crowley was attempting to push him downwards, and he forced himself to co-operate, holding his legs out straight to assist his friend, as ridiculous as that seemed.  
All too soon, the cool air of outside became a thing of the past though, as his feet and legs joined him in the humid closeness, and the demon's sharp teeth clicked closed behind him, sealing him into the powerful tube.  
Everything familiar about his friend, that he had gotten to know over the last sixty centuries, seemed suddenly very distant as he saw this entirely new part of the demon.  
The angel squeezed his eyes shut and permitted himself a small noise of anxiety as the muscles gripped him with frightening efficiency, and he repeated to himself over and over that this was going to be an excellent place to hide.  
None better.  
Nobody would think to look for him here.  
In the belly of a demon.  
With the heavy, base thudding of a powerful heart, and the overly calm whooshing of the lungs.  
Panic _almost_ took him as a particularly tight squeeze squashed his wings painfully against him, the delicate feathers now completely sodden and heavy with slime.  
But then the worst of it was over.  
In a bundle of scruffed up feathers, legs and worried exclamations, the angel finally came to a halt.  
Aziraphale panted for a brief moment, almost hoping himself to be waking from a frightening dream. However, as he carefully pushed aside a slime-covered wing, he realised that he was, in fact, still inside Crowley.  
Deep inside now.  
A light pressure to his side, and a rumbling call of his name suddenly drew the angel's attention, and he felt a powerful thirst for knowledge about what was going on outside. His mind was too scattered to use his powers, and his normal senses very much ended at the walls of the demon's stomach. “Crowley?” he called up, fighting off a nervous gulp. “Are you... we... safe?”  
“For now,” the grumbled response came. “But we need to move. Are you alright? I haven't broken any wings?”  
“No... no I think I'm quite alright... but... do you perchance have a little water to spare before we're off?” A bit of cool water would clear his head and hopefully rinse a little of the thick, clear slime from his wings.  
“Sure thing,”  
A loud, wet noise sounded from up above, and the angel let out a surprised yelp as the liquid joined him in a heavy rush. He hadn't realised how quickly he had become accustomed to the heat of his new accommodations, so this room-temperature water from outside certainly did more than clear his head.

Crowley was already on his feet when the request for water had reached him, and he had simply grabbed his glass from earlier and taken a gulp. He had not been expecting the shout, or powerful little wingbeats that followed. He had been taking steps to grab his keys, but stopped at this, pressing a hand lightly to his stomach, feeling those fluttery wings against his palm. “Aziraphale?”  
“That was _cold!_ ” exclaimed the angel indignantly, the wings folding back down to settle into a more compact shape once more. “You could have warned me!”  
“Sorry, didn't think,” said Crowley, his slitted eyes flicking around as he sensed Aziraphale's pursuers were growing near now. “But no time, we have to move, now,” he said, sparing a gentle pat for his full belly as he grabbed his car keys, sunglasses and jacket in one fluid movement. He paused at the desk to scribble a little note, which he placed for them to find and swept out of the door, Aziraphale's jacket over his arm.  
Moments later, he was seated comfortably in the Bentley, speeding away down familiar streets, his belly churning in confusion around its living contents.  
He belched softly, should have brought the Whiskey. That would've calmed it down.

Not fifteen minutes later, the door to the demon's apartment burst open, and an angry looking Gabriel was quick to patrol the place, his steps heavy on the expensive flooring.  
It was perhaps ten more minutes before his eyes finally fell onto the demon's desk, and there, waiting for him was a post-it note.

_“Dear loves. Gone on holiday.  
See you next doomsday.  
-Crowley.  
p.s. If you see Gabrel. Tell him I hate his suit.  
It's ugly and would have looked dated  
last century.”  
_

Pure, white hot rage filled the apartment as Gabriel read this, infuriated that Aziraphale thought he could slip through their grasp and evade punishment once more.  
And also that a _demon_ had not only spotted him far enough away to judge his fashion sense, but had the _gall_ to criticise it. 

In the distance, speeding away towards the channel tunnel, Crowley let out a cackle as he sensed the blast of energy and anger back in the middle of London. Now they had to decide if they should search for him at all, or if he was merely a distraction from their search for Aziraphale. He could just be drawing them off after all. And they only had a few days to figure it out before Aziraphale's wings would be safely hidden again, and the angel would be far wiser about keeping an eye on what he ate in future. 

To be continued...

Seriously let me know if you enjoyed this because I have more.


	2. Bon Appétit Part 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two!

Good Omens. Vore Fanfic. Bon Appétit Part 2.

All characters and most inventions mentioned in this piece of writing belong to the creators of Good Omens. Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. 

Warning, contains soft m/m, non-fatal, non-sexual vore and general micro content. 

Takes place after the mini-series and is based on the TV versions of the characters and universe, not the book. 

Follows on directly from part one. Please read that one first.

\---------------------------------- 

Crowley smiled smugly, his hand creeping to his stomach as he drove. The angels would never guess that what they were searching for wasn't just him... but what lay within. If indeed they were even wasting their time searching. Still, this had not been an altogether negative occurrence. Aziraphale had learned an important lesson about what _not_ to eat, but Crowley was learning a very different one.  
In fact he would have to open up his menu to angel more often. He had thought the pleasure of eating his friend would pass once the meal was over, and the angel was settled, but he was delighted to discover that was not the case.  
Even as he drove, with Aziraphale laying quietly, the weight and tiny movements kept a grin firmly fixed on his the demon's face. It was like a warm, tingling lump was in his very core, making him feel powerful and protective.   
He had done this before but... it had always been different. It had been humans, mostly sent for punishment. He'd visit them in 'dreams,' have a snack, then have them wake up as though nothing had happened. He had never thought to keep them. He had even done it to a few demons to scare them off his territory, but always released them after barely a moment, his point made.  
He had also kept their sizes at around three inches, as was the perfect size to toy with, terrify and gulp down like a treat. This... this was more of a meal... and he found he liked it.   
Though his hand moved from wheel to gearstick and back as he drove, it frequently found time to settle on the rounded shape at his middle, making contact with his friend, checking all was well.  
At first, Aziraphale did not respond, merely remaining quiet and nervously still, but as time drew on and they gained more distance from the capital city, the angel finally seemed to recognise the difference between peristalsis and the conscious presses of the demon's hand. He began to silently respond to Crowley's touches, tiny hands pressing back against the demon's palm, responding to his contact. Each time, the broad grin on the his face widened, and though Crowley's focus was on the road, his attention remained firmly with his friend.  
Caring little for speed limits, he drove swiftly to the channel tunnel, handed over money for the crossing without any trouble, and soon drove the Bentley into one of the carriages of the enormous Eurotunnel car train, and parked up. He let out a quiet sigh and turned off the engine, waving a hand to black out the windows darker than normal, not wanting curious humans peering through at him on the journey.  
With this done, he leaned back with a self-indulgent sigh and lightly touched at his stomach. “Well. We're aboard the channel train,” he said, a little louder than normal, but still a normal enough tone.  
“Already? That's excellent...wait... just how fast were you driving?”  
“Fast enough to out-run an angel apparently,” replied Crowley with a dark chuckle.  
“What do you mean? Did something happen?”  
“Didn't you feel it?” asked Crowley, curious.   
“Feel what?”  
The demon blew an exclamation through his lips, “Gabriel... having _quite_ the tantrum as we left London.”  
“No I... I didn't feel a thing... I say... is that normal? Did your curse affect my senses at all?”  
“Nope. Just your size... and how easy to digest you are.”  
“What do you mean _'how easy?'_ to digest?”  
“Well, we couldn't have you getting digested and dis-apparating right into their hands now could we?”  
“Well, no. I suppose not.”  
“Exactly. So I just... made it so you'd be too tough for the acids to set in for quite a while.”  
“How long is a while?” asked the angel cautiously.  
“Uh...” Crowley glanced at his watch, “Roughly... another ninety nine years, eleven months, twenty nine days, twenty one hours and forty three...”  
“Alright I get the point Crowley,” sighed the angel, relaxing a little at this news.   
Crowley grinned a broad, self-indulgent grin, reclining his seat, enjoying how it felt when the angel settled in his belly like that. He traced a long finger lightly over the man's shape, licking his lips again, still tasting the faintest hint of that light, aromatic spicy flavour. The angel shifted slightly inside, pressing gently back at his touch, almost drawing another growling purr out of the demon.   
“Crowley?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“You pressing at me like this... what does that mean? I feel like you're trying to communicate with me when you do it...”  
“I am,” said Crowley with a grin. “I'm telling you everything is okay out here, no problems.”  
“Oh! Oh I see!” The angel let out one of his little chuckles, and gently pressed back against the hand again. “And everything in here is okay with me!”  
“Wonderful,” grinned Crowley. “Now if anything is wrong... you'll probably hear me growling about it before you feel anything... but if I'm trying to keep quiet, you need to keep a feel out for everything getting very... tense.”  
“Tense? How will I know...”  
“Alright... hang on... let's have a test run...” Crowley sat up a little and intentionally tensed his stomach muscles, forcing the angel's relatively comfortable space into a tight little chamber.  
“Oh goodness!”   
Crowley relaxed almost immediately as he felt the little wings flutter anxiously, and a light kick told him that the reduced space was a lot less comfortable for Aziraphale. 

“Well, if I feel that I will certainly know something is wrong!” exclaimed the angel, settling once more as the muscles around him softened into a comfortable hammock. “As if I could feel that and think anything _wasn't_ wrong!” He was slowly starting to adjust to this now. The smell and the slime were certainly nothing to enjoy but it was warm and very soft... much softer inside than he would have expected a demon to be, and if he had not even managed to sense Gabriel's fury then certainly, there was no chance that the angel could sense his diminutive little energy now. It seemed Crowley's body was shielding him from far more than just prying eyes.   
He gave a faint little smile and settled in place, letting out a small sigh as the wall shifted once more, an enormous hand passing him by, checking all was well. He smiled warmly, and pressed back. All was indeed well. Strange, and a bit slimy, but well.   
“Are we still headed to Paris for Crepes?” he asked.  
“Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise,” replied Crowley, sounding amused. “I was thinking we find a nice hotel... perhaps not quite our usual standard, I'm thinking four-star to draw a little less attention, book a suite so we can keep a low profile, and go the room service route. Perhaps take advantage of the shower, a little nap, and then head on our merry way, how does that sound?”  
“Sounds satisfactory,” agreed Aziraphale with a little nod of approval. “What shall you be having on your crepe?” he rubbed his hands together, eager already.  
“Hmmmm... I think chocolate...” said Crowley. “Maybe nutella...”  
“Heresy...” muttered the angel. “Modern sugar garbage on a perfectly good crepe... chocolate is one thing but nutella?”  
“Oh... and what you his holiness be having?” asked Crowley, laughing to himself.  
“Hmmmm....” the angel drummed his fingers together thoughtfully. “Fruit and cream... we shall see what choices of fruit they have before I decide,” he said, enjoying the thought already. A few hours ago he had been waking up from a nap to realise his wings had been exposed and Gabriel was coming to clip them. If someone had told him then that he would be settling himself inside Crowley as a means of safely hiding, he would likely have laughed at them. But here he was.  
He let out a quiet sigh, letting his head fall back against the soft flesh, listening to the world that was now his. Soft, wet sounding gurgles from below, calm breaths, a powerful, booming heart, deeper perhaps in tone than a human's would have seemed. Indeed, this was a strange place but as long as those ribs continued to protect him from the sweeping gaze of Gabriel, he could cope with it.  
Feeling those powerful fingers pass by him again, he smiled weakly and pressed back at them, glad of the contact with the outside world.

Crowley settled back, throwing one hand up behind his head to use as a pillow as he relaxed, the other hand remaining ever settled on his belly.  
The crossing was thankfully quiet. Whoever was pursuing them had clearly not figured out what route out of London they had taken. If they were lucky, they weren't even looking for him at all. It was entirely possible they would interpret his announcement of a 'holiday; as a red herring, and keep searching instead for Azirphale, ignoring Crowley and his getaway.   
He drove calmly through northern France, actually sticking (roughly) to the speed limit, not too keen on drawing a lot of attention to himself for once. He had bigger things on his mind. At some point halfway through the crossing, Aziraphale had gone all quiet and limp within him, and it had taken the demon several worried minutes to realise that his friend was, in fact, asleep. It _was_ the middle of the night after all, and the angel had been through some incredible stress, it was no surprise he was drained enough to drop right off to sleep.  
Still, it gave Crowley a rush of power that was almost entirely new to him, and he struggled to wipe the broad and devious grin off his face as he drove towards Paris. After all, what better place to hide could there possibly be than a bustling city? They would blend right in.  
He parked up in a service station after a few hours of driving and browsed his phone for a while, examining four star hotels around Paris that would be at least somewhat busy, and, most importantly of all, that they had crepes on their room service menus.  
It was not long before he found the ideal one, called up from a payphone and arranged an early morning check-in, pretending to be a businessman who had been travelling all night. Since money was no object, it was really no problem getting a suite, and he settled back in the car to continue his long drive. Aziraphale had slept innocently through the entire exchange.

He arrived at the hotel in good time, and was shown to their suite with the tiny angel still fast asleep inside. It was strange for Crowley, to face humans going about their day, knowing he was hiding someone from them like this, and their perception and understanding of reality, would never permit them to even consider that there was a second person right under their gaze.  
It was fascinating, and he once more had to struggle to keep a smug grin from dominating his expressions whilst he was speaking to people.   
Once a porter had shown him to his room, and the demon was alone, he let out a contented sigh, going to examine the view from the large windows, watching what he could see of the bustling city. He liked Paris. Good food, good bars, and so many discontented people surrounded by wealth greater than their own... it made fertile grounds for temptation. But that was not the purpose of his visit today, and he drew the curtains over the view, not wanting to risk any onlookers.   
He paused to examine the room and bathroom, and tested the bed with a few firm pats before stopping in the centre of the space and pressing his fingers to his temples, sensing once more.  
Nobody was watching. Nobody had followed them yet.  
He let out a relieved sigh, and carefully stroked at Aziraphale. He had done it. He had stolen the angel away right out from under the grasp of Gabriel. He had no idea exactly how the angels planned to 'clip his wings' or anything like that. It might have just been a nasty threat to scare him following up giving him a curse to keep his wings out. More an act of spite than anything else. But certainly it was a very unpleasant thing to do to the peace loving angel who simply wished to be left alone now. That was all either of them wanted.  
The Demon became quiet, pensive for a moment as he mourned the loss of the old days, when they could do as they wished and come under no threat as long as their respective headquarters got their memos. Once it had all turned nasty things had changed, and for a while they had been left alone. It had been great. He had always known it wouldn't last but... it was a shame nonetheless. At least, this time, they had seen it coming.   
He rested a hand quietly on his friend for a moment or two before picking up the phone beside the bed and calling room service.   
He relaxed quietly until the order arrived and then eagerly locked the door behind it. Breakfast time.  
Setting the tray down on the small table in the room, he pressed gently at his friend, “Aziraphale?” he said quietly, pushing long fingers against the angel's side, “Wakey wakey...”  
There were a few soft mumbles before any kind of sense emerged from the angel, and Crowley gave a devious, amused grin. “Come on, are you going to sleep all day? If I had known, I'd have just kept driving...”  
Apparently, this was the moment Aziraphale remembered what was going on, and he sat up with a little gasp. “Crowley?! What's happening, have they found us?!”  
Crowley blinked in surprise as he felt worried little hands pressing at him, but, realising the awakening had been a shock to the angel, chuckled and gently stroked at him with long, soothing movements. “You're a little jumpy,” he said gently, “It's fine, we're in Paris. You slept through the whole drive. Nobody followed us, and nobody's watching.”  
“Oh... oh...” the small body relaxed a little bit, “Well... that's certainly good news!”  
Crowley grinned, gently prodding the little form. “Are you ready for breakfast now?”  
“You've already arranged breakfast?”  
“And the hotel, like we discussed. We're alone, and for now, nobody is paying us any attention.”  
“Excellent. Very well then... how are we to do this?”  
“Well... you remember how you got in?”  
“I could hardly forget Crowley...”  
“Well, that's the way out too.”  
“Ugh... I don't suppose you can just 'magic' me out?”  
“Not without wasting a lot of energy we might need,” replied the demon, chuckling. “I suppose you could consider the.... _other_ way out but... it's worse... I guarantee you, it's worse.”  
“Other way...? Oh. Oh NO Crowley. Absolutely not. I shall settle for the way I came in thank you very much.”  
“Had a feeling you'd say that,” chuckled the demon, grabbing a towel and sitting upright, “Hold still... I'll make it as quick as I can...”  
This was not an enjoyable part of the process, even for Crowley, but in the interest of keeping his friend reasonably contented, he needed to come out for his crepe, and some fresh air. He would feel much better after those creature comforts. Soon enough, punctuated by an exclamation of disgust from the small angel, the demon opened his mouth to allow him to spill into the towel, quickly wrapping the slimy, winged little man in the soft material so that he could adjust to the temperature and brightness a little more easily.  
He carefully set the bundle down on the table, and went to turn the heat in the room up just a little before returning, and carefully, delicately lifting a fold of the towel to peek inside, giving a cheeky grin as he saw his friend trying to scrape slime from his wings.

Aziraphale was glad of the towel shielding him from outside for a moment or two, grabbing handfuls of the clean, white cloth and using it to wipe his face and hands before he set to work on his wings. He systematically pressed the white feathers between layers of towel and scraped downwards, squeezing the thick, sticky strings of saliva and (presumably) stomach acids from them.  
After a moment or two, long, delicate fingers joined him, bringing a little light to his shelter, and he smiled up at Crowley, though it was a weak and somewhat stunned smile, as he was still adjusting to their situation.   
The demon smiled back, his orange eyes all but glowing at the small angel as he peeled back the towel slowly.  
Aziraphale grimaced as bright light flooded him, and cold air was quick to soak through his slime drenched clothes. “Goodness me...” is muttered, hugging himself. “I never would have thought to call Paris cold but... it does appear that it is now!”  
Crowley grinned broadly, and patted his stomach, “You adjusted very quickly to a different climate...”   
Aziraphale looked down, embarrassed, and gave a small nod, “Yes I... I suppose I did...”  
Crowley chuckled, moving one of the still-covered room service plates that he knew was Aziraphale's closer to the towel. “Come on, let's eat,” he chuckled, removing the cover of the plate with mock flare and drama.   
Aziraphale sat up, looking down at the crepe on his plate, his eyes growing enormous as he looked back up at Crowley. “With... fruit and cream?”  
The demon grinned at him smugly, and shrugged, “Peaches and cream. It was the only fruit option they had... I had a feeling you wouldn't complain...”  
The tiny angel rubbed his hands together and carefully climbed down out of the towel, looking at the mass of steaming food, “Well I... I suddenly see an advantage to being this small...” he said, circling it, observing it. “But... how on earth am I going to eat it?” he asked as he saw the enormous knife and fork placed on the tray, neatly wrapped in a napkin. Each one was taller than he was!  
“I thought of that,” said Crowley, reaching to the other side of the tray, and picking up a tiny spoon. It was still a good two and a half inches long, smaller than a shovel for Aziraphale, but certainly a more manageable size. “Demispoon,” he said, grinning, “Smallest kind of teaspoon.” He held it out towards the angel, handle-first, who reached out and delicately took it from him.   
“Thank you Crowley. You've really thought this through. I'm impressed,” admitted Aziraphale with a weak smile. The implement was still very large for him to use as a normal spoon, but it would work for cutting and scooping sections of the food very well. He went to loom once more over the food, smiling and holding up the spoon. “How much of this do you think I can eat?” he asked, grinning.  
Crowley gave an amused chuckle at seeing the tiny man with the disproportionately large piece of cutlery. “Only way to know is to try it,” he said, moving his own plate close to himself, and leaving the angel to start getting the hang of this new challenge as he lightly began to pick at his own food. He had ordered two chocolate crepes for himself, as they only contained a small amount of filling compared to the fruit packed ones, but he only ate one for the time being, pacing himself and eating slowly as he watched the little angel.  
Aziraphale quickly developed a system to combat the enormous size of the food. He would circle it, cut himself a neat little scoop of crepe, and make sure he got himself the perfect balance and cream and fruit with it, then he would sit back at the edge of the plate, and eat the spoonful with as much care as he could, to avoid getting any of it on himself. It seemed like slow progress when he was staring down his own bodyweight in food, but he made a valiant effort anyway.  
The one biggest issue he always had with food was that helping sizes were never _quite_ enough. This had rather solved the problem for him, and after eating only a relatively small amount of the food on the plate, he set down the spoon and went to wipe his mouth with the towel before sitting down with a self-satisfied sigh. “That... was scrumptious,” he said softly, looking up at Crowley.  
The demon grinned at him, “And look... you've barely eaten anything...” he dragged the plate over towards him, and started helping himself to the food.   
“Hey! You've not even finished your own and you're going to eat the rest of mine?” exclaimed the angel, gesturing to the second chocolate crepe on Crowley's plate.  
The demon grinned at him again, “Oh, no I'm saving that one...” he said.  
“Saving it?” asked the angel, looking puzzled. “Whatever for?”  
Crowley gave Aziraphale a grin that was _almost_ concerning, and to someone who did not know and trust him, certainly would have been. “For later,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyhow... I believe the plan was to take advantage of the shower facilities, and to take a nap... I think you know that when we get to the nap phase of the plan you'll have to go...” he gestured to his mouth.  
Aziraphale looked down and nodded, “Yes... I know, can't risk staying outside when you're sleeping...”  
“Exactly,” Crowley smiled, “So, the question is, do you wish to go back in now, or would you feel better for having had a wash first... even though... you're going to be back in that state as soon as I...” he pointed to his mouth once more.  
Aziraphale considered this, rubbing his chin a little. Getting clean seemed so utterly redundant when he was only going to be covered in slime once more in minutes. “Perhaps you could just help me rinse the slime out of my wings?” he suggested, “Rather than bothering with a full wash.”  
“You know they're just going to get slimy all over again... right?” asked Crowley.  
“I know I know...” Aziraphale waved a hand dismissively. “But can't you just humour me? I'm having rather a bad day.”  
Crowley shrugged, “Bad day was yesterday, it's all been uphill since then,” he said, chuckling. “But if it will help you feel better before you return to hiding, we can clean your wings.”  
Aziraphale gave a grateful little smile and a nod, “Thank you.”

Crowley stood up and gently lifted the angel into his hands, heading to the luxurious bathroom, and lightly setting Aziraphale down beside the sink. “I think the bath or shower might be overkill,” he chuckled, turning on the tap, and working to adjust it to the right temperature.   
“Well I suppose you're not wrong,” laughed the angel. Though his tone was still a little strained as he worked to adjust to his new size and situation, he was grateful to Crowley for being accommodating and very restrained for a demon. It was not so much an issue of trust any more, he knew that he was safe, it was more a case of Crowley actually _asking_ him about things before he went ahead and did them.   
He looked up as gentle hands reached for him again, and allowed himself to be lifted to the stream of water. He did not care for his clothes getting wet, as they were just as filled with slime as his wings, and given that, water would do only good.  
Reaching out, he tested the water with his hands, quickly discovering that it was just the right temperature. He stepped carefully off Crowley's hands onto the bottom of the basin, and turned to allow the clean liquid to begin rushing over his wings. He began to gently preen through one of them with his fingers, helping the water get properly through the feathers, and though it made them feel very heavy, it was good to be rinsing the slime away.  
He jerked a little in surprise as he felt a touch on his other wing, but it was light and gentle, and a glance over told him that Crowley was only helping, imitating the grooming action of his own hands on the second wing. Every now and then the demon would fill his other hand with water to help rinse the other wing, since the first one was taking up most of the flow of water.  
Before long, Aziraphale turned, his wings drooping with the weight of the water, and reached out to fill his hands instead, using it to rinse his face and hair. “Oh that's better...” he sighed, raising his wings, and giving them a slow flick, spraying water to the sides and all but drying the feathers in the single, graceful action.  
Crowley, crouching down and folding his arms on the edge of the sink, chuckled as he looked down at the angel. “Well... enjoy it, because you know you can't stay like that.”  
Aziraphale sighed quietly, “I know, but it all happened in such a rush before, and I had no time to prepare for it at all... Now I feel,” he paused to consider the correct phraseology. “Properly equipped to cope.”  
Crowley gave him a grin, then reached into the sink to gently help him out. “Well good. Because I need a shower, and I'm not about to leave you running around all bite-sized with trouble after you.”  
Aziraphale smiled, allowing himself to be gripped and lifted. “Well, I'm flattered by your concern Crowley. If only it didn't come with the knowledge that you intend to eat me,” his words were light and humorous, showing that he meant no genuine complaint, and was merely playing.   
Crowley chuckled a little, carrying the small man back to the main room, and setting him gently on the table, “Well, you may be slightly less grateful to me shortly,” he said, his tone also containing no threat.  
“Oh? And why is that?”  
“Because this time... I'm adding a little flavour,” said the demon, his eyes giving a little gleam and his grin broadening to that of a predator as he suddenly flicked the angel's legs from under him. He caught Aziraphale mid-fall, not allowing him to hit the table and risk injury or even a genuine scare, and scooped the small man up, over the plate containing the uneaten food, and with a swift movement, he opened up the crepe, revealing its still-gooey chocolatey interior, and deposited the angel right into the centre. 

Aziraphale barely had time to process this as it took place, past giving a surprised yelp at the initial movement. He was not scared, more puzzled by the demon's words, but as he was laid onto something sticky, and the familiar smell flooded him, he knew _precisely_ what Crowley had done to him. “Now see here!” he began, but the demon just gave him a cheeky grin, and folded the sides of the Crepe in over the angel's body, holding it gently closed with one finger. “You can't just put me in a crepe!” he blustered. “It's... rude!”  
Crowley chuckled and gave him a warm grin, “Well then, I have some good news for you,” he said, his eyes glowing in amusement.  
“What good news is that?” asked Aziraphale, more irritated at having his wings now covered in chocolate than truly upset.  
“If it's got meat in it, it's not a crepe any more, it's a galette now...” he gave a little laugh. “So. I didn't put you in a crepe at all!”  
“I don't think that's strictly accurate!” exclaimed the tiny angel, wriggling a little bit as the demon skilfully gripped the entire thing, and delicately lifted it up, his long fingers holding the shape of the food neatly around the angel.   
“Maybe not,” the mouth spoke as it loomed over him, “But the difference is regional... and vague, even for a human colloquial argument... worse than the Brits and their bloody cream teas...”  
Aziraphale, seeing the demon had every intention of eating him like this, let out a little sigh. It wasn't so bad, the crepe had tucked his wings neatly back, so the throat would not be able to ruffle them around as it had before, and being covered in chocolate was certainly preferable to being covered in demon saliva. “You. Have horrible tablemanners,” he said huffily.  
Crowley let out a small and genuinely amused laugh at this, before giving the angel's still-damp hair a wet lick, and opening his mouth wide to begin sliding his friend inside.  
This time, Aziraphale was on his back to witness the row of teeth passing over his face, and this time, was in a far more aware mental state to observe them. Clean and white, they still looked every bit as sharp as the last time he had seen them, and his breath caught just a little bit as they reached level with his face.   
Fortunately, with a single, swift push, and a wet noise from somewhere ahead of him, the teeth gave way to the soft pink of a healthy palate... and then darkness as the powerful muscles at the opening of the throat welcomed him.  
This time, it was not so bad.  
Though the muscles were just as powerful, squashing all around him, he was calm. Surprisingly so for an angel in his position, being consumed by a demon, with chocolate slowly starting to drip down his neck from the mass above him. But this time, he knew for sure that he was protected, that the flesh and muscle and bone he was being sealed into was there to hide and look after him.   
Indeed, as wet swallows echoed all around him, the angel had to admit to himself that he already felt safer.

Crowley let out a soft, satisfied sigh as the heavy weight moved downwards. Though the chocolate crepe had added significantly to the angel's flavour, he found it muted the sensations of him moving quite a bit, and that just wasn't an entirely worthwhile trade in the demon's opinion. He licked his lips nonetheless though, and thoughtfully popped his fingers into his mouth one at a time to pursue the last drops of escaped chocolate.  
It was still good. There was no doubt in his mind about that. This felt simply wonderful, but he missed the excessively powerful sensation of his friend moving.   
The demons stood up from the table as the weight finally rolled into his belly, the crepe unfolding, and finally permitting him to properly feel his friend once more. He chuckled as the first sensations he received were two indignant little kicks, and he gently pressed back at them with his palm.   
“Come now,” he said, grinning as he headed slowly to the bathroom, “There's no need to be like that, this was far more efficient when you think about it.”  
“Yes well. Your 'efficiency' has left me with chocolate all over my wings!” came the response, and though the words were sharp, the tone was not. Aziraphale wasn't angry. He was merely playing up as though he was.  
Crowley grinned, knowing now that he had gotten away with it, and turned the shower on, waiting patiently for the water to heat up. He pulled off his shirt, and for a brief moment, traced the shape of the roundness at the base of his ribs in the mirror, grinning toothily the entire time. “Well. Perhaps next time it can be something else,” he said, wondering how the angel would mix with other flavours. He was already chuckling as he stepped into the shower, “Where do you fancy we drive to next? South of France? Germany?”  
“Hmmmm...” the angel seemed thoughtful. “I _could_ go for some Baumkuchen...”  
Crowley laughed, “I see... so now were are going to tour Europe's fine desserts are we?”  
“I don't see why not!” Aziraphale laughed along with him now. “Since we are to be on the road and fleeing for a while, we might as well make a trip of it!”  
Crowley shrugged, starting to wash his hair, a grin still plastered over his face as the heavy little weight rested inside. 

Once done with his shower, Crowley dried, dressed and went to lie himself carefully on the bed, grinning hugely as he sank into the soft mattress and the angel's weight settled against him. “Alright... time for a nap,” he said, heaving the duvet over himself.   
“Alright but... not too long I hope?” asked the angel. “We don't want to hang around and... get noticed.”  
“Nah, just a short one,” replied the demon, snuggling down, sighing happily as he relaxed, his arms over the duvet, resting protectively around his middle.

The sleep was blissful. Better than he almost ever remembered sleeping before, most likely on account of his full belly. And though his nap was intended to be short, plans for it grew shorter still when he was disturbed from his sleep, his orange eyes snapping open as he heard a knocking.  
A knocking that wasn't coming from the door... or even inside the room.  
It was coming from the balcony door.  
The balcony door of this top floor room...

To Be Continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming next week! Hope you enjoy this one as much as you did the last.


	3. Bon Appétit Part 3.

Good Omens. Vore Fanfic. Bon Appétit Part 3.

All characters and most inventions mentioned in this piece of writing belong to the creators of Good Omens. Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. 

Warning, contains soft m/m, non-fatal, non-sexual vore and general micro content. 

Takes place after the mini-series and is based on the TV versions of the characters and universe, not the book. 

Follows on directly from parts one and two. Please read those first.

\---------------------------------- 

_The sleep was blissful. Better than Crowley almost ever remembered sleeping before, most likely on account of his full belly. And though his nap was intended to be short, plans for it grew shorter still when he was disturbed from his sleep, his orange eyes snapping open as he heard a knocking.  
A knocking that wasn't coming from the door... or even inside the room.  
It was coming from the balcony door.  
The balcony door of this top floor room..._

Crowley let out a soft, automatic growl, his eyes glowing in the half-light as he stared towards the source of the knocking. One hand tightened protectively around his middle, his growl intensifying as the persistent knocking continued. He knew there was no way a human could be up there on that balcony, and even if they were, they wouldn't be knocking on the window, they'd be trying to figure out how to break in and rob the place without waking him up. He ground his teeth a little bit, his orange eyes flicking around the room. There was nobody in here with them. At least not yet.   
Perhaps whoever was following still weren't sure that he'd run off with Aziraphel, and just wanted to spook him, interrogate him a little. He still didn't like the sound of that. Being candid with angry angels rarely paid off well for a demon, especially one without backup. Still... if he just fled the building, they would catch him. They had certainly already made sure he was here, probably made some arrangement with his own head office to find out where he was. Now he had to figure out how best to escape the situation. Silently, he got out of the bed, and began to gather things from around the room. Cushions, pillows, throws, towels, anything he could lay his hands on.  
He swiftly constructed two humanoid shaped lumps on the bed, then grabbed his jacket and car keys. He snuck silently to the far end of the room, where a second balcony lay, and silently opened the curtains just a little. Enough to light the room, and provide an adequate view of the bed from there. He paused, to carefully lay another post-it note under the covers expressing his dislike for Gabriel's fashion sense, then swept out of the room.   
The angels would not simply go bursting into the room unless they were certain Crowley was there. Once they checked the other balcony, they would think they had not only him, but Aziraphale cornered as well. With a bit of luck their horror that the demon might be sharing a bed with the angel would cause them yet more seconds pause.  
Moving swiftly, he dashed down the stairs of the hotel, pausing at the bottom to quickly sense, and see if anyone was nearby...  
He sensed heavenly presence high above... that was absolutely certain. But nothing else, nothing on his level. Sighing, he hurried out, keeping his head low as he rushed to his car, hopping in and starting it up.  
The jostling movement of the stairs had woken Aziraphale, who was pushing at him and demanding to know what was going on, but Crowley's focus was entirely on escape. He revved the car up, and sped off down the Parisian streets, taking back roads and staying out of heavy or slow moving traffic. If he could get far enough away before they put any real effort into sensing him, he could get out of their scope of attention.   
Half an hour later saw him speeding East, now on the outskirts of the city and free of the worst of the traffic. He was not comfortable to stop yet, as he could still sense them, he knew they would be able to sense him.   
Just when he was starting to breathe a little easier, and thought he was going to be able to make it away, a pale-clad form stepped out from a nearby alleyway, directly in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes automatically, knowing that running over humans was largely frowned upon.   
It was only once he had come to a dead stop that he realised the man was familiar, and had stopped millimetres from where the car came to a halt. Almost as if he had known.  
As two large hands slammed down on the bonnet of the car, Crowley's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, and he cursed, growling to himself. Gabriel had caught up with him. “Aziraphale be silent,” he hissed, using a hand to cover his mouth as he opened the door, taking on a careless but slightly annoyed expression as he leaned one elbow on the roof of the car and glared at the archangel. “Gabe! You know that had better buff out... I'd _hate_ to have to send a bill to send to your head office...” he gestured to where the man's hands were still on his precious bonnet.  
“Don't play games with me demon,” snapped the angel, standing up straight and approaching him. “Where's Aziraphale?”  
“Aziraphale?” asked Crowley, looking thoughtful. “Aziraphale... oh you mean the guy with the...” he gestured to his neck, using his fingers to make a 'bowtie' action. “From the thing... the... Armageddon thing?”  
“I already told you!” snapped Gabriel, now looming over him, his blue eyes furious. “No games! Now where is he?!”  
“Pfff...” Crowley shrugged. “Haven't seen him in oh... ages. Since you guys dragged him off so... maybe I should be asking _you_ where he is?”  
“Oh is that so?” the angel's eyes narrowed, and Crowley could tell that he was trying to sense Aziraphale.   
“Yes that is 'so'...” he replied, mocking the angel with an exaggerated impression of his accent. “So why don't you take your little mates and sod off back to your cloud?” Mostly he was working to distract Gabriel from sensing him too closely. He had no idea how efficiently shielded his friend was by his own energy but he didn't want to push his lucky.  
“Look here worm...” snapped Gabriel.  
“It's snake actually... serpent...”   
The angel's eyes narrowed to slits. “Why did you go on 'vacation' precisely when we were looking for Aziraphale?”  
Crowley shrugged, pushing his lips up into an exaggerated 'no clue' look. “I can't be expected to know where everyone is all the time now can I? Isn't it your job to know where your people are?” he knew he was pushing his luck. The Archangel would feel no guilt for dousing him with a gallon of holy water... the only thing he had on his side was the knowledge that the angels thought that wouldn't do anything to him any more.  
“So if you're just 'on vacation' why did you run from us at the hotel?”  
Crowley shrugged again. “Frankly Gabe... I don't really care for you fellows a whole lot...”  
The angel glared at him, and grabbed him hard by the shoulder with one large hand, dragging him away from the car door. “Tell me where Aziraphale is!” he snapped, his thumb digging harshly just under Crowley's collarbone as he squeezed.  
“I told you! I have no idea! What reason would I have to lie about any of this?!” snapped Crowley, his careless, arrogant tone now gone, replaced with a threatening growl.  
“I don't know...” admitted Gabriel.   
“And how did you even find me anyway?” asked Crowley, squirming in the grip. “Seems a lot of effort to go to to track down one demon...”  
“Well... we figured you must be somewhere within reach of London, probably a major city since demons like them so much... Paris was pretty close to the top of the list so... it _hardly_ stretched our resources...”  
Crowley silently cursed his foolishness. They should have gone somewhere small, and out of the way. He had underestimated the reasoning power of the angels. “Well. Like I said. No angels here... search the car if it would make you feel better, but don't scratch the paintwork okay?”  
“Fine. But I still owe you...” Gabriel drew back his free hand, clenching it into a fist.  
Crowley saw what was coming, and reacted quickly, milliseconds before the punch struck him directly in the gut.  
The piledriver force of an archangel's punch is certainly nothing to sneeze at.  
This was something Crowley now realised as he found himself flying backwards down the adjacent alleyway, through a garden wall, and landing in someone's lavender patch. His insides felt as though they had all turned to liquid, and he worked to recover and get back on his feet.  
Before he could get a chance though, a hand hand grabbed his neck and lifted him up, back through the wall, and he was once more face to face with the angel. “Come on Gabe...” he said, his voice choked as a thumb pressed into his throat. “My lot would be very upset if _you_ start bullying me and don't let them have at least a slice of the action... and I still don't have a reason to lie about Aziraphale... haven't seen him since the not-end-of-the-world.”  
The angel let out an angry noise, then dropped the demon, giving him a second, much less powerful punch in the jaw. “That one. Was for the comments about my suit,” grumbled the angel, then began to stroll off down the alleyway.   
Crowley, who had been thrown back against the wall by the second punch, let out a little laugh and slid down the stones, raising a hand to his face and quickly discovering a split lip. He could have fought back. Could have given the archangel quite something to think about but... he could ill afford an all-out battle right now, and it would only have drawn things out.   
Now, Gabriel genuinely believed he had no idea where Aziraphale was, and would waste no more time hunting him down.  
Still, as he caught his breath and struggled to his feet, he grimaced at the pain from the initial punch. That had definitely bruised him up real good.  
Stumbling back to his car, he found Gabriel nowhere to be found, and after a quick moment to sense whether anything nasty had been planted in or on his vehicle, the demon found a cross hidden within the wheel-well, which contained a simple little tracking miracle. He ripped it off and tossed it into a nearby drain, growling as he went and sat down awkwardly in the driver's seat. He sensed it once more, much more carefully this time, and found nothing else had been done to it. Then he began to drive, not keen on being around when people noticed the hole in the wall.   
He drove in silence for a while, feeling sorry for himself and extremely sore. He kept going until he could no longer sense any of the angels, and then finally stopped, pulling the car into a layby and parking up.  
As he did so, a curious and awkward squirm drew his attention, and he sighed, resting a hand on his chest, well above his stomach. “It's okay...” he said, his voice thick and awkward at the shape trapped in his gullet for so long. Poor Aziraphale had been squashed in there for some time now.  
Just as he had seen the punch being prepared, he had used his magic to shove Aziraphale up into his throat once more, where his own ribs would absorb any of the shock, and he had pinched his own throat almost completely shut top and bottom to make certain that no matter how hard the hit, the little angel would remain there.   
Now, he relaxed the pinching, and exhaled softly as the large shape finally slithered back downwards and squished into his bruised stomach. Crowley silently hissed through his teeth at the discomfort, but met it with a hand nonetheless. “You can speak,” he said quietly. “He's gone.”  
“Crowley?! What on _earth_ happened?! Are you alright?” the voice was blustering as usual but this time it was with concern, and the demon cracked a smile.  
“I'll live,” he said, gently touching at the nervously pressing hands. “Gabriel caught up... paid us a visit...”  
“Was that who hit you?!” the small angel sounded as close to angry as Crowley had ever heard him, and he smiled a little wider.  
“Yep. Punched me through a garden wall. But it's fine, really.”  
“It is most certainly not fine! You're hurt!”  
“I'm alright, I'll live.”  
“Crowley I was knee-deep in blood!” exclaimed the angel.  
“Oh...” Crowley touched his split lip, realising that of course it had been bleeding as lips do, and without thinking he had been letting that blood pool with Aziraphael. “Sorry about that...”  
“Sorry? _Sorry?!_ ” the voice was incredulous. “You just allowed the archangel Gabriel to interrogate and strike you on my behalf... and I _know_ you chose not to fight back... I could hear it... all of it... and _you_ are saying sorry to _me_?!”  
“Sorry about the blood,” clarified Crowley.

Aziraphale was stunned. Lost for words. He had known Crowley was his friend, and he had learned to trust him deeply but he had never realised what complete lengths to which the demon was willing to go to protect him. He let out a little noise of exasperation, and flopped down with a sigh... he felt useless and guilty.  
As his weight dropped, he heard Crowley sharply draw breath, and he realised that immense impact he had felt against the demon's body had been a full strength punch from the archangel, and it had struck precisely here. That explained why Crowley had moved him with such urgency.  
Worried, the tiny angel pressed his hands against the flesh again, and realised it was hot to the touch, much hotter than before, it felt swollen an angry as he sensed it, and he scowled. “I'm going to fix this...”  
“No miracles Aziraphale, they might sense them...”  
“Nonsense. They didn't sense _me_ here... so as long as what I do, I do _inside_ your skin... they don't have to know a thing...” he said, matter-of-factly, and pressed his hands more firmly into the flesh, drawing on his own powers.   
He could not heal everything. To do so would have involved using his magic outside the demon... but the bruising to the stomach, liver, and other surrounding organs, he quickly soothed away with light, cool touches. The demon was tough and much hardier than a human, but that had been an extremely powerful impact. The angel grimaced a little as he surveyed the damage using his magic, thinking how terrible the strike would have been for him if Crowley had not been able to move him up under the ribs. He left muscle bruising and the damaged lip alone, not daring to send his powers so close to the outside. As he worked though, he felt the tense and angry muscles slowly relaxing under his hands, settling into their previous state around him.   
Finally, he sat back, 'dusting' his hands together even though they were covered in slime. “There, that's much better,” he said, sighing as he relaxed against the wall once more. This time he heard no hiss of pain, and gently touched at the front of the stomach, searching for the gentle touch of his friend, feeling drained from such prolonged use of his powers. “You absolutely _cannot_ go putting yourself in such ridiculous danger!” he scolded.  
Crowley's chuckle rumbled through the area, making the angel smile a little bit as the demon responded. “What... would you prefer I told him the truth?”  
“Of course not... but... that was far too dangerous!”  
“Well, in my defence I had no plans to let him catch me... he just showed up at the hotel and followed me as I tried to leave Paris. Turns out going to literally the nearest other capital city was a _bit_ obvious...”  
“And you're _sure_ he's gone now?”  
“I'm sure. Nobody is watching us. It's safe. For some reason, he bought my story.”  
Aziraphale exhaled softly in relief, pressing at the wall again, as that reassuring hand had not yet come back to join him, and though the demon was playing it off as though he was fine, his heart betrayed him with fast, booming thumps.

Crowley blinked as he realised the presses were more urgent this time, and he raised a hand to gently rub at them. His stomach felt much better, all of that deep aching in his guts was gone, and though the flesh felt tender, he knew there was no deeper damage remaining. The little angel had done a good job of fixing him up. “Thanks for the patch job though,” he chuckled.  
“It was the _least_ I could do Crowley... after what you just did for me...”  
“Oh that was nothing. I'll insult an angel for you any day of the week!”  
“That's not what I mean, you know that don't you?”  
The demon was silent for a moment before giving a quiet sigh and gently stroking Aziraphale. “I know. Now stop fussing. We should move. I don't want him thinking again and coming for another go at me.”  
“Do you think he might?” asked the angel, sounding concerned.  
“I hope not!” Crowley barked with laughter, starting the car. “Settle in. We'll be eating Baumkuchen before you know it.” He eased back onto the road and began to drive, planning ahead to change his trajectory and take some small lanes. He had been aiming to drive straight to the border at West Germany, but since Gabriel had seen that road, he had no plans to stay on a path even remotely close to it.  
No. From now on, small towns, quiet roads, places he could hide himself and his precious cargo. He had no intention of taking another risk such as the one he had just narrowly escaped from.  
As before, the gentle movement of the car soon rocked the angel to sleep, and Crowley was able to drive without concern that the small man was still stressing about their little adventure.

Crowley drove for a long time, concern for Aziraphale's safety pushing him on through the rest of the day and well into the evening. The angel slept through all of it, clearly tired from repairing his bruised insides. Still, the gentle little movements and sleepy snuggles as the angel moved and worked to stay comfortable were just wonderful, and kept him motivated to keep on going until he found them somewhere he felt safe.   
It was only when he realised that he had driven them to the middle of nowhere that he decided perhaps he had done enough for one night. He followed signs to a town, moving for another hour or so before he found one that had a hotel, and booked himself a room for the night.   
He ordered food from room service, and sat there looking at it for a while, not wanting to wake the resting Aziraphale, or really make the effort of chewing, as his jaw was very sore from that punch. It was a quick and easy trick to conceal the ugly bruise spreading across his face, and his darkening black eye from humans, but alone, he allowed them to become visible again and examined them in the bathroom mirror, sighing a little. He had had far worse, but that had been too close. He would never have given up Aziraphale, but if Gabriel had injured him badly enough to force him to dis-apparate, likely the tiny angel would have been left exposed and alone without him.   
He leaned back on the bathroom counter, resting one hand over his stomach and the other over his eyes, wondering what he could have done differently to hide their escape better. Not stopped for a nap, first and foremost. He didn't want to stop now, but he was tired as well, and driving endlessly whilst tired and hungry and injured would put Aziraphale in an entirely different kind of danger.  
Eventually, he pressed gently on his stomach, disturbing his heavy burden from its rest.   
“Hm? Wha? Crowley? Is... everything okay?”  
“Yes, everything it okay,” confirmed the demon, smiling, “But it's late, and we both need some food.”  
“But my watch only says that it's twelve o'clock! That's hardly grounds for a panic Crowley...”  
“It is twelve o'clock,” confirmed the demon. “At night. You've been sleeping all day,”  
“No! Surely not... you're joking?”  
“Nope, out like a light, all day,”  
“Oh I'm so sorry Crowley I had no intention to leave you alone like that for so long... have you been driving all this time?”  
“I wanted to get away,” replied the demon with a shrug. “We're well away now, and nobody is watching. Nobody has even passed us peripherally in hours. I think we're safe. Gabriel was a fool to tell me exactly how he found us. I knew what not to do this time.”  
“Oh that was clever!” said the little angel, enthusiastically pressing at his hand. “Is it time to come out for dinner?”  
“Yup, it's a small place so choice was limited, but I don't think you'll mind.”   
“Are you sure you can bring me out? Because if you're too sore I can wait...”   
“No, it's fine, you need some food and a little fresh air, it's no problem.”  
Aziraphale was about to argue about it a little more when he felt things tensing up around him, and he realised the demon was going to go ahead regardless of what he thought.  
Crowley did exactly that, grabbing a towel as he carefully forced his friend back to the outside world, and gently caught him in the soft cloth, laying back on the bed with a sigh to catch his breath, the bundled up towel discarded on his chest.   
The towel moved a little as Aziraphale worked to clean his face, hands and wings, and then he began working to find an entrance, eventually untangling himself and rolling onto the soft material of the demon's shirt. “Crowley?” he called, looking up, seeing that the demon was laying flat. He stood up, and began creeping along the man's sternum, “Crowley are you alright?” He could see an ugly red and purple bruise slowly darkening on the man's jaw, and he winced a little bit as he crept closer to see that it had spread up to his cheekbone, and the bottom of the demon's eye in an ugly, growing black mark. “Oh Crowley...” he breathed, feeling guilt rush through him once more. “Don't tell me you fell asleep that fast...”  
The demon waited until Aziraphale was right up by his chin before suddenly grinning and opening his eyes. He put his hands behind the angel and sat up, causing the small man's weight to fall into his hands as he grinned down at him. “Not asleep,” he said, shuffling forwards on the bed. “Just resting.”  
“I'm not surprised...” said Aziraphale sheepishly.  
Crowley set him down gently on the food tray on the bedside table, and shrugged. “It's fine... I'll live,” he said, uncovering the bowl of food, which, in this case was saurbraten meatballs with pasta, probably reheated just for him since it was late. But food was food, and he was hungry.  
He smiled, sitting upright and moving the tray onto his lap, he carefully took the demispoon he had specifically asked for and offered it to Aziraphale with a grin.  
The angel gave a soft chuckle, taking the thing, and coming to sit at the back of the tray, with his back against the demon's middle, “Would you mind cutting one of the meatballs a little smaller for me Crowley?” he asked, “I'd be ever so grateful...”  
The demon grinned, carefully grabbing the cutlery, and bringing it down on either side of the angel, he set about filling the request, cutting one of the meatballs into much more manageable slices, and doing the same with a piece of pasta, setting both piles carefully at the back of the plate, within easy reach of the tiny angel and his spoon.   
Having separated the rest of the food out, he carefully began to eat his share, delicate with his jaw, which was still extremely tender.   
They ate in silence, enjoying the food and feeling grateful for the quiet of the night after an extremely stressful experience. At least now they were free of it for a little while.  
After a time, Aziraphale laid down the spoon and grabbed for the edge of a huge napkin to wipe his mouth before leaning back against the demon with a sigh, looking a lot more contented now. “That was good. I was ready for that...”  
“After a twelve hour sleep marathon I'm not surprised,” chuckled the demon, polishing the plate with a last piece of pasta. “I think we both were.”  
Aziraphale looked sheepish again, “I am sorry I fell asleep for so long Crowley... it's just... hard not to... in... in _there_...” he sat up to gesture at the demon's middle.   
“Oh? I thought you'd find it all rather objectionable,” said the demon, looking amused.  
“Well... the slime I don't care for but... it's hot and... much _softer_ than I had anticipated. Honestly it's like a waterbed only... all around, and well... mobile.”  
The demon tilted his head, considering this. “I suppose that doesn't sound as bad,” he said thoughtfully. “Once you get around _where_ it is and _what_ it is... a waterbed like that sounds rather good.”  
Aziraphale relaxed slightly, glad the demon had not chosen to tease him about his admission. “Well. You did an amazing thing for me today... and I appreciate it.”  
“Ah. Wasn't amazing. You'd do the same for me,” Crowley waved a hand dismissively.   
“Well... protect you from Gabriel yes but I doubt I would have thought to eat you in the first place... that's very much more your line of thinking.”  
“Guilty there,” chuckled the demon. “I was a serpent after all. There's few problems you can't solve as a serpent by biting them or swallowing them.” He removed the tray from his lap, setting it aside and moving so that he was lying on the bed, propped up on the pillows, and Aziraphale allowed himself to be carried along with that, sitting quietly on Crowley's chest as he settled. “Do you think we'll be able to avoid them for long enough Crowley?” he asked quietly, “Until this wears off?” he fluttered his wings a little to show what he meant.  
Crowley smiled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV that lay on the other side of the room and flicking it on, wanting some background noise. “Of course we will,” he said, grinning. “Gabriel was convinced that I was just a red herring, as long as we don't draw any attention to ourselves from here on, your wings are safe.”  
Aziraphale looked relieved at the reassurance, and settled quietly as Crowley flicked through television channels for a while, settling on one and then relaxing. Large hands folded over the belly below the angel, and both fell quiet, not really watching the show, but not totally ignoring it either.

Aziraphale jerked in place a short time later when a low rumbling sound shook the chest on which he lay, and he shot to his feet, fully thinking that Crowley was growling at some danger he had yet to see.  
But a glance up at the demon's face made him realise that Crowley was in fact snoring, rather than growling. The slitted eyes were closed, and his bruised face looked peaceful. For a moment, Aziraphale just smiled at this, then quietly moved forwards and gently touched Crowley's cheek. “Crowley,” he said gently.  
The demon's eyes shot open instantly with a little huff, flicking around and then immediately settling on him. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked, his voice sluggish.  
“Yes, and that's fine. But I really think we ought to deal with this first,” he gestured to himself, and then at the room, to indicate that he was in fact still outside.   
“Oh! You're right,” chuckled the demon, sitting up a little, and carefully grasping Aziraphale. “I assume you don't require any formalities beforehand this time?”  
“Well, a glass of wine first would have been nice, but since you _did_ buy me dinner and save me from a very nasty encounter today... you can go ahead.”  
Crowley chuckled in amusement at this, and then gently brought the small man forwards, stretching his jaw wide, ready for a little dessert.  
For the first time, the angel just completely allowed the sleepy demon to do it. There were no wriggles or squirms, Ariraphale simply folded his wings down nice and close to his back, and allowed Crowley to get right to work. This touched the demon a little bit with trust, and he smiled warmly, pressing the small form further back, starting to swallow gently. He missed the streamlining effect of the crepe, but did not miss the way it covered up the angel's flavour. That little hint of clean spices was strangely delicious, and despite his sore jaw, he remembered everything he _liked_ about doing this as he continued, swallowing gently, transferring the angel's weight smoothly into his throat.  
He tilted his head back as the long shape made progress, resting the top of his head against the wooden headboard and sucking the tiny legs into his mouth with a sigh. It did feel nice, he had to admit it. The light little movements tingled and tickled under his collarbone, and he gently followed them downwards with a long finger, glad when Aziraphale slipped under the bone and into invisibility once more.   
He let out a little exhale at this point, sliding slowly down the pillows and lying down properly, one hand seeking out the remote to silence the television as he relaxed, flicking the duvet up over his chest, adding another layer of perceived security as the heavy weight slid into his stomach, rounding it just a little against the soft blankets. Licking his lips with a tired but self-indulgent grin, Crowley laid a hand gently on his stomach and gently traced the shape of his friend as Aziraphale moved to get himself comfortable. “Goodnight Galette,” he said quietly, grinning to himself.

Aziraphale blinked, looking up as he heard this nickname and giving a little snort, shaking his head as he settled slowly down, “You're not going to call me that for long I hope.” A chuckle rumbled softly through the flesh, almost a purr, and the demon replied in an amused tone.  
“Perhaps. Maybe I'll stop once everything goes back to normal.”  
“Well I wish you would,” said the angel with a little chuckle, relaxing, laying his head down on the inside of one of his wings, which had thus far escaped too much slime. He let out a little sigh, letting the soft, rubbery flesh flex to support his shape, and closed his eyes, smiling a little bit as he realised at the back of his mind that he could still faintly smell chocolate in his feathers. 

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last part of this initial little fic, but do feel free to comment what you thought, I may well write more for these boys because this was a lot of fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Contains vore content and almost certainly blasphemy.
> 
> I have about eight more pages of it at the moment if you want more, still going though. We'll see where it leads, so let me know if anyone wants just... more of this.


End file.
